


bury me if it pleases you, lover

by lostinthefire



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, And Will is aware and accepting, Death, M/M, No Cannibalism, but Hannibal is Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/pseuds/lostinthefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will knew what Hannibal was even before he was actually aware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bury me if it pleases you, lover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenPhoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix/gifts).



There’s an image in his head: himself on the ground, Hannibal’s hands at his throat. They kiss, hard, and there’s blood -- there’s always blood -- before the hands tighten, cutting off his air and luring Will into the darkness.

He saw it the first time he met the man, flashing in his mind the moment they touched. Then it stalked him, followed him in his dreams and in the dark corners of his thoughts. It was inescapable, and he wondered what it meant, if there was something there to be said about himself, about Hannibal, about both of them?

Now, of course, he knows -- he has an idea, at least. Knows how the world works, that his reality has always been sideways. His eyes are opened; he’s looking at the picture head on and he sees what the world was trying to tell him.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he hears an old folk song play. He has to bite back a laugh as Hannibal rests a hand on his hip, fingers digging in just a little. There’s a kiss is pressed to his lips, Hannibal prying his mouth open so that he can claim what he’s dubbed as his.

There are jokes he could tell, plays on mythologies that he just doesn’t bother with. It doesn't change anything. Hannibal is what he is and Will cannot escape it, cannot escape him. Either he surrenders or he’s chased down, caught and claimed against his will, with nowhere left to go.

How do you run from Death? How do you find a place to hide from the inevitable? 

Hannibal never bothers to ask Will if he’s scared; how he feels; what he wants. It doesn’t matter. Even if Will didn’t want it -- and if that was ever true, it’s not anymore -- it’s still going to happen. Hannibal will have his way.

“Tell me,” he says. “How do you think you will die?”

Will shrugs, and Hannibal kisses down the line of his neck, moves to shed Will of his shirt. He sucks in a breath when Hannibal bites at his collarbone, teeth teasing the skin before he moves on.

“You must have thought of it,” he says. “Everyone does at least once.” 

He feels hands toying with the waistband of his pants, dipping beneath them to stroke the skin of his hip. Will doesn’t try to keep still, leaning into the touch and wanting more. He knows he should answer, but his mind is distracted with the idea of skin on skin and, in a distant and detached way, with wondering what the fuck he’s even doing right now.

“Tell me,” Hannibal breathes against his ear before his teeth sink in, biting hard for only a moment. “Tell me what you thought.” It's not a question; it’s a command.

Will breathes in shakily, swallows hard as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I thought… I don't know. I thought someone would shoot me.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not a whole truth, either. Once upon a time, he imagined that’s how it would go, but it’s been a long time since then.

“What else?” Hannibal prods, his hand planted against Will’s chest, keeping him from moving. 

Will's teeth bite down on his lip before he sucks in a breath. “Intimately. Maybe with a knife? Maybe somebody’s hands. I don’t know.”

“And how do you think you’re going to die now?”

Will laughs. “Are you giving me the chance to choose my own death, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal chuckles, his free hand moving to undo Will’s fly. “Consider it a professional curiosity.”

His breathing quickens as Hannibal’s hand, slick with something -- Will hadn’t noticed what he was doing -- wraps firmly around him. He’s already half hard; he isn’t even sure when that happened.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says breathlessly. “It’s going to be your hands on my throat. You’re going to squeeze the life out of me. You’ll be what I see before I go; I'll taste you, your voice is the last thing I’ll hear.”

Hannibal smiles almost kindly, his hand never stopping, his thumb moving to rub at the head of Will’s cock. “And is that what you want?”

He barks out a laugh, sounding ragged. “I don’t know.” He tries to thrust into the touch but Hannibal’s other hand is still against his chest, keeping him at the wall.

“I think you do.”

Will closes his eyes, wanting more than he’s being given. He wants to feel Hannibal up against him, wants his mouth on him, his hands, wants all of him. “I want--” His breath hitches in his throat as Hannibal moves his fingers just so. “I want to know you’re going to be there when I die. I want your hands on me.”

There’s a moment of stillness, and Will feels his body start to tense up as Hannibal moves his hand from his chest, before he moves in closer. He pins Will against the wall with his body instead, his hands scrambling for purchase on Hannibal’s shoulder. He doesn’t know what he agreed to or if he agreed to anything at all, but Hannibal presses in closer still and Will doesn’t care.

There’s no escaping the inevitable and in a way, it’s a relief. Death haunted him, stalked him and wanted to pull him down into its arms for so long. Now that he’s there, being held by the Reaper himself, it doesn’t seem as bad as his mind made it out to be. Maybe he’s riding shotgun into Hell, but he was going there anyway; at least this way, he can see what’s in front of him. At least this way, he gets some say in his own demise.

“I would be honored,” Hannibal says into Will’s ear as he comes, “to see your final moments. It will be my pleasure.”

Will feels like he just signed away his soul, but he slumps into Hannibal and it doesn’t seem to matter much at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta done by apatternedfever an the title is by The Oh Hello's
> 
> Find me elsewhere:  
> [My DW](http://rootsofthestories.dreamwidth.org) (which I use regularly)  
> [My Tumblr](http://analtarofstars.tumblr.com/) (which I am very rarely on)  
> [My Twitter](http://twitter.com/harvestgraces) (which I am on at random)


End file.
